


Royal Milk Tea

by professional_benaddict



Series: Royal AU [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Civil War, IronStrange, King Anthony, King Stephen - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Multi, Oral Sex, Prince Peter - Freeform, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slightly dudcon/underage, Starker, Strangespider, Supremefamily, Teasing, royal au, royal friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professional_benaddict/pseuds/professional_benaddict
Summary: King Anthony and King Stephen are back with Prince Peter in Norway. The crown becomes heavier with responsibility as each day passes and Peter continues his training to become a King. What will Anthony do when he becomes haunted with dreams of a man with purple lips? What will Stephen do when the Swedish court pulls him in one direction and his heart in the opposite? What will Peter do when stormy clouds of war start creeping up on the Norwegian castle grounds?





	1. Chapter 1 - The Welcome (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> The trio is back! So far the plan is that I will post a chapter each Sunday, but if something comes up and I am unable to continue that schedule I will let you guys know. 
> 
> Song I listened to while writing this: Burning Desire - Lana Del Rey

“Thyra!” 

The white fox yelled loudly and hyperventilated with excitement. She wagged her tail back and forth in tense movements, her mouth open to flash her smaller canines at the wolf-dog. Thyra was ill-tempered occasionally, but her fit could have not come at a worse time. Peter grew embarrassed as he saw how calm Fenrir was by the side of his master, unlike his own pet who was running around yelling like she had been stung by a bee.

“It is quite alright, Peter.” Stephen assured, slipping out of his heavy leather and fur coat as servants took it from his broad shoulders. He straightened the cuffs of his suit and looked down at Fenrir, pleased to see the pet calm and obedient. 

“Fenrir is after all much older. Foxes can be quite tricky to train, but once they know who their master is, I have heard they can be very trustful. How do you train her?” The Strange King asked, keeping the conversation light as they waited for the Stark King to join them in the entrance hall of the Norwegian castle. 

“She only obeys me when food is involved. Chicken and carrots are her favourites.” The Prince chuckled a little with a sigh, kneeling down and tried to call on his pet. “Thyra, here girl.”

Thyra’s ear twitched in the direction where Peter was, but she kept her eyes locked on Fenrir still. After a moment or two, after realising that Fenrir was not attacking, she let out a high pitched noise and slowly made her way over to Peter. The Prince pet the fox, before rising up again. 

“By Odin’s beard! Too much snow! I thought I was going to suffocate.” A voice bellowed in the hall. Anthony strode in, guards by his side and servants rushing over to take his heavy overcoat. The coat was flowing after him, making him look mighty and kingly. What was most striking about him, however, was the large hawk on his forearm. Peter recognised it to be Hábrók, whom he had briefly met earlier. The servants pulled the King's coat off of one arm first and Anthony allowed for the hawk to hop onto the other forearm. Once he was free from his heavy clothing, Anthony straightened his suit and the belt around his waist. The claws of the hawk looked sharper than any swords and spear, but they did not harm the King as he had vambraces on both forearms. The King must have made them himself. 

“Peter, that is a stunning pet you have. Thyra is her name, is it not?” The Dane said, studying the arctic fox by Peter's side. Luckily, Thyra did not go off at the sight of Hábrók like she had with Fenrir. Her tail was still wagging in sharp movements, but otherwise she sat still. 

“Yes, she is my precious, sometimes vicious, thing.” Peter said with a smile.

As servants began bringing the Kings’ belongings to their chambers, the three royals made their way to one of the many sitting rooms in the castle. The three pets were tended to and fed whatever raw meat they preferred. For the royals, steaming mulled wine and other refreshments awaited them to warm them all up from the biting cold outside. Unlike last time, Peter did not sit alone on one of the sofas, but sat in between the two Kings. All three took a moment to drink the mulled wine, savouring the warmth of the spiced drink. 

“How was the journey? I hope nothing terrible happened along the way.” Said Peter, addressing both Anthony and Stephen. 

“Long, cold and dull. But nothing unexpected nor terrible occurred. Very few things slip through Hábrók’s sight, after all.” Anthony said, putting his now empty glass away. 

“That is why I gifted you with him.” Stephen said, stretching his arm on the back of the sofa to brush Anthony's shoulder lightly. The two Kings shared a loving look, before turning to Peter again.

“My Fenrir never lets his guard down, even during sleep he is aware of his surroundings and thus can warn me of danger. So no, we did not encounter anything unusual, as we rarely do.” Stephen added, still sipping on his drink. 

Peter nodded, but an unease grew in his stomach. He really did not hope that Thyra would also turn out to have unnatural abilities. Her temper was more than enough to deal with. On the other hand, the ability to sense danger from afar would be quite beneficial for Peter, with Steve Rogers on the loose. Perhaps he could ask Stephen about it at a later time, as other questions were more urgent to him at the moment. 

“How long are you staying? Did you get to tend to the demands in your kingdoms? And what are we to do about Steve Rogers?” The Prince blurted out in a hurry, causing the Dane to raise his brows and the Swede to chuckle into his glass. 

“We can tend to those later. Now, is this how you greet a King, Peter? No welcome kiss?” The Dane spoke with a husky voice, leaning over Peter on the sofa. He placed one hand on the Prince's thigh, the shiny vambrace catching the light. His other hand snaked around Peter's neck, his fingertips brushing against the curls on his nape. The coldness in Peter's limbs was replaced with a warm tingling sensation as the King locked his brown eyes with his. 

“Forgive me…” Peter said, feeling a little coy as he leaned to kiss the Dane sweetly on the lips. Their tongues danced together and Peter moaned quietly in the back of his throat. Anthony’s face was still chilly from the long journey, but his lips looked a deep and warm red when Peter pulled away from the kiss. 

Suddenly, a strong hand grasped Peter by the collarbone and shoulder, flipping him around and making him land against the Swede's chest. With his other hand, Stephen lifted Peter's chin and kissed him passionately. Both men moaned with satisfaction and the King brought his hands up to stroke Peter's cheeks. The Prince had to pull away, breathless, looking up at the King's blue-green eyes through his lashes. 

“You must learn to share, Tony.” Stephen said teasingly, placing a hand on Peter's lower back. The position was a little awkward for the Prince, with his torso against the King, one leg on the sofa and the other dangling over the edge. On the other end of the sofa the Danish King had a good view of the Prince's tight white trousers, which hugged his behind nicely. 

“I am King.” Anthony nearly growled, grasping Peter by his hips and flipping him around, so that his back was against Stephen. “I take what is mine.”

Once more, Stephen tilted Peter's head up for a kiss, so the Prince could not see Anthony undoing his trousers, but he felt his steady hands on his groin. With each tug on a button and flick of the tongue in the kiss, Peter grew more and more aroused. The Prince could nearly weep at how much he had missed being manhandled by the two Kings, left at their mercy and letting them do whatever they pleased with him.

The cool air of the sitting room barely hit Peter's cock before he was embraced by Anthony's hot mouth. The sensation came like a shock and the Prince yelped, bucking his hips. He felt a rumbling in Stephen's chest as he chuckled, wrapping his long fingers around his neck, biting his earlobe. 

“Shhh, let Tony take care of you, sweet Prince…” Stephen shushed, tightening his grip around Peter's neck gently. The Prince was already becoming breathless from Anthony's intense sucking, but the choking just added to Peter's need to submit. 

“Ahhh…” The Prince hissed through gritted teeth, bucking his hips to get deeper into the wet heaven that was the King's mouth. The Dane placed his hands on Peter's hips, pushing him down and letting go of his cock to tease his head with the tip of his tongue. He swirled it around and occasionally wrapped his lips around the head to give a teasing suck. The young man whined and mumbled a beg for the King to make him cum already, but Anthony shook his head. 

“Patience, sweet thing. What if Steph wants a bite too, hmm?” Anthony smirked, tugging Peter's trousers lower over his thighs, exposing his ass. Using his free hand, Stephen pushed two slender fingers into Peter's mouth. Without having to be told so, Peter began sucking and wetting the Swede's fingers, moaning around them hungrily. With a low growl, Stephen pulled his fingers out and brought his hand under Peter's ass, finding his rosy bud with ease. The Prince flinched, but pushed back against the fingers, eager to have them inside him again. 

“Oh, how many cold nights have you spent alone, Prince? Moaning our names as you toy with yourself?” The Swede purred in Peter's ear as he pushed the first finger in, pumping it in and out slowly. 

“Ah! M-many…” The Prince breathed out, clenching the velvet fabric of the sofa in his hands. 

“Thought so, you naughty whore.” Anthony smirked and lowered his head once more to swallow Peter's leaking cock. 

With two fingers in his ass brushing against his prostate and a wet and hot mouth wrapped around his cock, Peter's release was building quickly. He babbled nonsense, consisting of begs, pleas and moans. Behind him, Stephen whispered sweet and dirty nothings as he twisted and pumped his fingers inside of him. While in front of him, Anthony picked up his pace, fondling with the Prince's heavy balls with his hand. For a moment, the Prince felt overstimulated and whimpered, but then Stephen's fingertip and Anthony's mouth created the perfect waves of pleasure, which washed over him and he came with a choked cry. Moving his hand from the Prince's neck, Stephen wrapped it in front of his mouth to silence him. As he rode out his orgasm, Anthony pulled back and got the cum that he did not swallow around his mouth and goatee. Once Peter had quieted down to low moans, Stephen removed his hand and let him catch his breath. 

Anthony sat up and licked his lips with a grin before speaking. “On all my diplomatic journeys as King, I have never experienced such a sweet welcome.”


	2. Chapter 2 - The Old Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy

“To summarise, like I wrote in the letters, the Prince is nippy on his feet and could defeat a slower and clumsier opponent with ease. He struck me in creative ways during our training, often aiming for the joints and vulnerable areas. He never lets his guard down and I have seen that he is very skilful with his steed. If he can stay on horseback throughout a battle, I think he could be a dangerous warrior. However, he tires easily and therefore I advise him to continue improving his stamina.” 

Rhodes finished his analysis and folded his notes. Across from Rhodes, Peter and Anthony were sat side by side. Stephen was not present, as he wanted to see Wong privately, not just regarding Peter's teaching but also confidential matters from the Swedish court.

The Prince turned to look at the Danish King, anxious to hear what he had to say. Peter knew that Rhodes had sent notes on his progress every week to the King in Denmark, but he knew very little of the content of those letters. The Prince had been hammered with criticism from Rhodes for months now, and he felt a stab of hunger for the Stark King's praise. 

Anthony nodded sharply before speaking. “As much as I trust you, Rhodes, I cannot be certain of his progress until I have seen it myself. Would you be so kind as to show me, Peter?” Asked the King, gesturing with his head towards the training swords in the back of the room. 

“Of course.” Peter replied, rising from his seat and making his way over to the dull blades. He ran his fingertips over the cold steel, picking up a more slender and lighter sword of the bunch. He preferred his sword that way, even though Rhodes had nagged at him repeatedly to take a heavier one to improve his strength. The Prince studied the blade for a moment, seeing his distorted reflection in it. In his mind, he quickly ran through the moves Rhodes had taught him before standing in the middle of the room where both men could see him. 

Peter took in a deep breath and placed his feet at shoulder-length, bending his knees and lifting the blade high. Quick as an attacking lynx, he began with stabbing moves at his imaginary opponent. Then, he spun around, striking lower, imagining how the blade destroyed the knee of his opponent. He flipped the sword in his hand, getting another grip of the handle as if to block an attack. The Prince continued for a while, so wrapped up in his moves that he did not see the King rising from his seat, not until his sword clanked against the King's loudly. 

Peter froze, but did not fold back, and kept his sword pressed against Anthony's. The Prince was breathing heavily, a few pearls of sweat on his brows. 

“Fight me, Prince.” Anthony said with a playful grin, swinging his sword so that his was on top and pushed Peter's down to the floor in a swift and powerful motion. 

Peter took a few steps back, lifted his sword and attacked the King. Rhodes sat up and watched with keen eyes as the two royals fought one another. Peter was quick, like Rhodes said, but overpowering the older royal was still a tricky task for him. 

“Good, Peter, very good. You could not do that last time I was here.” The King praised with a chuckle, holding onto his side where Peter had hit him. The older man straightened up once more and lifted his sword again, an invitation the Prince took with excitement. Sword fighting with Rhodes was nothing compared to the King. Anthony had a daring approach to the fights and a grin on his face, which his advisor lacked. The Prince felt alive. 

The two royals continued their fight for a moment longer, dancing across the floor to the music of steel clanking against steel. Like most of the Prince's fights, it was over for him when he grew tired and dropped his sword, which he did. In a quick manoeuvre, Anthony had Peter's back against his chest in a choking hold. The hold was not tight enough to harm the Prince, but he nonetheless groaned in frustration. 

Suddenly, the Prince had a thought and tried to strike his strangler under his jaw, but the angle of his shoulder would not allow it and the Prince hit the King in his chest instead. Right on his old injury. All the air left the King's lungs, causing him to release his hold on the Prince and fall to his knees with a thud. 

“My King?” Peter asked, panic seeping into his limbs. 

Anthony hung his head and clutched the clothing on his chest. It looked like he was drowning on land, until he finally managed to heave air back into his lungs. The King coughed vigorously, his breathing raspy and eyes tightly closed in a pained expression. Rhodes was up in a flash, kneeling down by Anthony's side with his hands on his shoulders. 

“Go get help. Quick, now!” Rhodes barked at Peter, sending the Prince out of the room. 

Peter looked down both sides of the hall, seeing a servant about to turn the corner, but instead of calling on her, he ran past her. 

“You Highness! What is the matter?” She exclaimed after him, but Peter did not answer. He was too busy getting to the library, where Stephen and Wong were, as fast as possible. 

Half an hour later, Peter was pacing the hall outside of Anthony's guest chambers. Rhodes and Wong were leaning against the wall, but were still very worried about the Danish King. Their grim faces and downcast eyes revealed that. 

After finding Stephen and returning with him to the training room, they passed the third confused servant and Peter had no choice but to reveal the urgent matter. Before the servant could send word out for a doctor, Stephen had spoken up and said that he would take care of the King. No one argued with his stern tone and they all followed his advice to bring the heaving King to his chambers and left them. 

Stephen had not emerged from Anthony's guest chambers since entering, nor had the three men in the hall heard anything from behind the heavy wooden door. Not a pained cry nor a relieved laughter, nothing. Peter could not tell whether that was a good or bad sign. 

The Prince felt awful as he paced back and forth, chewing on his fingernails anxiously. He should have known better than to hit Anthony on his weakest body part. It was not even a real fight, he was just supposed to show what he had learned. The Prince grew more and more impatient and the frightening thought that he had injured the King severely or worse, killed him, was just about to have him screaming out when Stephen emerged from the guest chamber door. 

Rhodes, Peter and Wong all turned to Stephen, blurting out their worry and demanded answers on Anthony's well-being. The Swedish King raised a slender finger to his lips, shushing the three other men. 

“It's all right, but best not to wake him.” Said the Swede, closing the door behind him. Peter caught a glimpse of Anthony on his bed, fast asleep. The sheets were pulled up to his waist, leaving his chest exposed. The King looked peaceful, but Peter did not get a proper look at his scar to determine if he had worsened the injury. 

“This is all my fault. I nearly killed him! Should we not let the doctor in? He arrived just now.” Peter said hastily, stepping closer to Stephen. The King chuckled lightheartedly, placing a hand on the Prince's shoulder in a soothing gesture. 

“Do not torture yourself too much, Peter. If you ask me, he was a fool for challenging you to a fight without his armour. Especially now in the winter when his old injury starts acting up due to the cold. But fret not, Prince, it is nothing that a good rest will not fix.” 

Rhodes, Wong and Peter let out a sigh of relief in union. 

“Rhodes, would you be so kind and stay by his bedside? I doubt anything will happen, but as a precaution.” The Swedish King asked and Rhodes bowed in response. 

“Of course. I will alert your Highness if anything occurs.” Rhodes said before slipping inside of the guest chamber, closing the door gently behind him as not to disturb the King's sleep. 

“Wong. See if you can find something which Anthony could benefit from during the winter.” 

Without a word, Wong bowed and strode down the hall, leaving Stephen and Peter alone in the hall. The Prince wondered what command Stephen was going to give him, as it appeared to be his turn. The King gave the Prince a warm smile and began walking down the hall before speaking. 

“Shall we go for a ride, my Prince?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stephen: my husband is a dumbass but he is MY dumbass


	3. Chapter 3 - The Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Untitled #4 (Njósnavelín) - Sigur Rós

Stephen and Peter kept a comfortable pace, fast enough to keep the horses warm, but slow enough as not to exhaust them by dashing through the heavy snow. Frea and Grani´s huffing hot breaths turned to water vapour in the cold air, making them look like dragons. Under their saddles, the horses wore a layer of wool, which shielded them from the worst of the cold. The two royals were also dressed warmly, with furs and skins. 

Circling around them as they rode through the forest, Fenrir and Thyra played with one another. The arctic fox blended into the environment with ease, and Fenrir had to stop multiple times to find her in the snow, but ultimately lost the game when Thyra snuck up on him. The wolf-dog yelped, growling as he chased after the fox. Fenrir had also grown his winter coat, but it still stayed quite dark and made him stick out like a sore thumb in the pure whiteness. 

The forest was quiet and peaceful, but not the way it was in the summer. Signs of life were rare, as most of the animals were sleeping through the rough season in their warm holes. There was no birdsong either, as most had flown south, but Peter did get a glimpse of a lonely eagle high above them in the white sky. It was like the sounds of the forest were muffled. A quiet and cold world of cotton. 

Peter guided Grani closer to Frea and Stephen. He knew the King would have no trouble hearing him from afar, but he felt like he would wake the sleeping forest if he spoke loudly. 

“Why did we go out? It was not just to let Fenrir have his daily walk, was it?” Peter said and knew he was right when the King gave him a knowing smile. 

“You are correct. I could practically feel the heat of the burning questions at the tip of your tongue. Most of your questions being inappropriate and potentially dangerous to discuss where others could eavesdrop on us. So, let’s hear it here, where only a deer or two will be witnesses to our conversation.” 

The Prince opened his mouth to ask about the King's intuition, but closed it and shook his head. The two Kings seemed to always be one step ahead of him. Opening his mouth again, Peter let his burning question blurt out. 

“Are you a witch like Steve Rogers said?” 

The King looked undisturbed by the accusation, as he had anticipated it. He urged Frea to halt and Peter followed suit with Grani. The playing pets sensed the serious tone of the atmosphere and quieted down. 

“No, Peter, I am not. Like I said, I know some healing and protective spells, but I left the Ancient One's circle before she could teach me to become a sorcerer.” 

Peter was not satisfied by Stephen's unhelpful answer, but then the King cleared his throat and continued. 

“However, I have not been entirely truthful with you. My knowledge of spells is limited, but I know how to call upon greater sources of energy and wisdom from other dimensions. I used these sources to defeat the Zealots and to help Tony with his injury. But like I stressed before, the spells are a last, desperate option when everything else has been attempted first and turned out to be futile. 

“After I healed Tony, rumours began to spread like a plague and soon I had to address accusations of witchcraft from my people. I knew I was risking my crown by calling upon a greater power, but I could not let Tony die. I simply could not, knowing I had the means to heal him.  
As the Ancient One's student, I was taught that meddling with the natural law comes with consequences. I know that one of those consequences is the suspicion among my people. It is not as widespread as it was and I have managed to gain their respect back, but there is something in their eyes when they look at me.”  
The King sighed and looked ahead of him, his gaze focusing on nothing in particular. “I fear that more severe consequences will be upon me soon. I sense it in the wind.” 

Peter could not help but shudder at Stephen's words. The Prince reached across to the King, laying his hand on his shoulder. The King turned to look at the younger man, his eyes looking otherworldly in the bright whiteness. His pupils were two tiny pricks, making his gaze look even more intense. 

“I have no doubt in my mind that you made the right choice by saving Tony and as long as I can stand with my sword in my hand, I will fight whatever or whoever it is that is coming for you. Even if it is the All-father himself.” Peter said nobly, his free hand resting on the handle of his sword. The King's tense expression became softer as a smile tugged on his lips. He placed his own hand on top of Peter's and brought it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. Even though Peter's hands were gloved, he felt a warmth spread in his chest from the gentle gesture. 

“I appreciate your bravery greatly, my Prince. However, I do not want you to risk your life for my actions.” Said the King, but was interrupted before he could continue by Frea neighing. Both of the royals companions seemed to grow cold, and Peter and Stephen urged their steeds into a trot. Fenrir and Thyra resumed their play as they neared the frozen lake. The ice would be at least a metre thick by now, but the pets still avoided the frozen water. 

“Stephen? There is something I do not understand. Why would the All-father come after you? I thought he would be pleased that you saved Tony and thus also the Danish people from spiralling into chaos.” 

“You misunderstood me, Peter. I did not call upon Odin.” Before the Prince could ask, the King continued with a heavier burden in his tone. “I called upon the Vishanti. They are three godly beings from another dimension. Agamotto, Hoggoth and Oshtur are their names. I called upon Agamotto, whom I did not see, but I felt his presence as I stood by Tony's lifeless form after battling Steve Rogers. My bargain must have failed somehow, which I am not surprised about as my judgement was heavily clouded by my emotions.” 

“What shape does Agamotto appear in?” Peter asked curiously. 

“Mortal beings cannot see the Vishanti, but the Ancient One told me he takes the shape of an enormous lion, with red flaming eyes and fangs as large as mountains.” 

The Prince was just about to ask more, but the King cursed under his breath. 

“I have said too much. I plead you Peter, that you do not speak of the Vishanti or anything else that I have told you to another soul, as your life and theirs could be in danger if you do.” 

“Of course, my King. You have my word.” The Prince said, placing his hand on his chest. 

Stephen nodded sharply before turning his attention to Fenrir who trotted up to him. The wolf-dog had a hare in between his jaws, the small animal's white fur stained by blood. Before Stephen could praise his pet, a loud scream disturbed the silence surrounding the lake. Emerging from the snow was an ill-tempered Thyra, growling and snapping her smaller jaws at the wolf-dog. She tried to snatch the hare from Fenrir, but she grew even more angry when the wolf-dog used his larger size to his advantage and blocked Thyra from getting his pray. 

Peter grumbled something under his breath, reaching into one of the bags on Grani´s saddle and pulled out a carrot. 

“Hey, Thyra! Here.” The fox turned her yellow eyes on Peter, her noises becoming happier when she spotted her favourite food. Peter threw the carrot to his pet, who caught it in mid-air. 

“I assume that is our cue to return. It will become dark very soon.” The King said and urged Frea towards the castle. Peter followed suit with Grani, with Fenrir and Thyra a step behind wagging their tails happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The Vishanti better be in the Doctor Strange sequel!!))


	4. Chapter 4 - The Vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Evil Beauty - Blackmill

The sun was low on the horizon when the King and Prince returned to the castle. They dined together with Wong, while Anthony dined in the comfort of his bed. Rhodes was supposed to stay with the Dane and assist him, but the advisor eventually joined Peter and the rest in the dining hall. 

“He said that he was not born yesterday and will not be spoon-fed like a baby.” The advisor explained and the dining party laughed. Peter welcomed Rhodes to join them by the table, gesturing at the servants standing by the walls to bring more food. 

With their stomachs full, one by one they excused themselves from the table to attend to their tasks. Peter did not hold them back, but he did remain seated for a while longer himself, enjoying his wine slowly. Before leaving the table, the Prince told the servants to give his compliments to the kitchen staff. Exiting the dining hall, Peter began making his way upstairs and to the wing where the guest chambers were located. Knocking three times and waiting a moment, the Prince entered Anthony's chambers. 

“Tony, what are you-“ 

“I am superb, thank you for asking.” The King interrupted. He was not in bed, but instead up and about searching for a jacket. The white undershirt he was wearing was half buttoned up, his trousers untied and hair tousled, like he had dressed in a hurry. The large scar on his chest was peaking through the open V-neck of the undershirt, but the King was moving too rapidly for the Prince to determine if he had worsened it. 

“I wish to apologise for what happened earlier. I miscalculated and I promise that it will never- Tony, will you please sit down? I do not think you are in a fit state to be rushing in this manner.” The Prince had to cut his apology short as it did appear like the King was listening, but instead was far too occupied with searching for something in the room.

“Like I said, I am feeling superb. No need to worry, my dear.” Said the King with a forced cheerfulness. The shakiness in his otherwise steady voice gave him away and Peter placed a firm hand on his shoulder to slow him down. Anthony stared blankly ahead, letting Peter guide him to sit at the end of the large bed. The King's brown eyes looked glassy and unfocused, like he was not present in the room with Peter, but somewhere far away. 

“Tony. What is the matter? Is it your chest?” The Prince asked gently, grasping one of Anthony's hands in his own and gave a reassuring squeeze. A heavy silence fell over the dimly lit room and Peter was just about to repeat his questions when the King heaved in a deep breath, like he had been underwater for too long. 

“I saw something in my dreams.” The King said hoarsely, not meeting the Prince's curious eyes. “I think it was a castle, a dark throne-like room. And sat in the throne was large man, barely a man, more than a man.” Anthony explained, clearly struggling to put his vision into words. With his brows knit together in a worried expression, he continued with the same hoarse voice. 

“I could not see the figure clearly, but- oh Hell…” The King choked on his words and put his head into his free hand. The Prince felt how Anthony's other hand began trembling in his grasp. “He had purple lips, like he was suffocating, but he was not. It seemed like he was defying death itself.” 

“It's all right, Tony. It was just a dream, it was not real.” Peter tried to comfort the King, but the older man shook his head firmly. 

“No, no, no. I have a strong feeling in my gut that it was real. I have to send Hábrók out to investigate further.” The King said with determination, rising up and continuing his search for a jacket. 

Peter sighed and rose up as well, noticing a jacket on the back of the chair by the desk. He went to retrieve it, offering it to the King who was frantically searching through his multiple chests. Anthony seemed caught off guard, embarrassment colouring his cheeks a faint rosy colour as he took the crimson jacket with a mumbled “thank you”. The tremor in Anthony's hands was still present, making it hard for him to button his jacket correctly. The Prince stepped forward, gently pushing the trembling hands away to finish buttoning them himself. When he reached the last button by the King's neck, he finally met the older man’s eyes. The fear that the dreams had planted in him was clear by the creases around his eyes, but there was also a softness in his wide pupils, a vulnerability. 

The Prince smiled gently, rising onto his tiptoes to kiss the King sweetly. Most of the tension and trembles in Anthony's form melted away as their lips and tongues danced together. Peter brought his hands up to cup Anthony's face, trailing the goatee his thumbs. The King moaned in the back of his throat, bringing the Prince closer to him with his hands on the Prince's lower back. They eventually had to pull away for air, panting slightly as they embraced on another. 

“Better?” Peter asked simply, looking up at the older man through his lashes. The King smiled wholeheartedly and kissed Peter on his forehead. 

“Better.” 

Together they made their way up the stairs to the tower on the North side of the castle. Peter had requested that one of their overcoats would be brought to them as well as the Danish King's hawk. Once they had their coats and Anthony had Hábrók on his forearm, they stepped out into the night. Two torches were set out for the royals by the railing to give them some light. The field surrounding the castle looked like an ocean of darkness, as the moon was hidden behind clouds and gave very little light to the frozen world below. 

The hawk probably saw much more than Anthony and he could, Peter thought to himself as he looked at the mighty hawk on the King's arm. The flames of the torches were reflected in Hábrók's yellow eyes, making him appear wild and incredibly intelligent. 

“Stephen gifted you with Hábrók, correct?” 

“Indeed. He felt he owed me after I aided him in his battle against the Zealots with armour and weapons. However, in reality, I owe him for gifting me with suck an extraordinary bird.” Anthony said with fondness in his tone as he gently ran his fingers over the hawk's head. Hábrók looked quite pleased both by the petting and the praise as he closed his eyes and leaned against Anthony's touch. ”Hábrók has saved me on numerous occasions and I find him to be my most valuable companion as he can see everything that I cannot.” 

Peter nodded thoughtfully as he watched the hawk and his master interact. Hábrók made no noises, but a generally pleased sensation radiated off of him as well as Anthony. The Prince could not help but feel jealousy creeping up on him. His own arctic fox pet had provided quite troublesome, unlike Fenrir and Hábrók who always appeared calm and collected, ready to obey their masters. 

“Anthony.” Said Peter, feeling slightly bad for interrupting the moment between Anthony and his hawk. “Do you think Thyra could also grow up to have abilities?” 

“Stephen is the one to answer that, my Prince, as my expertise on these matters is limited. But what I do know is that it would be very beneficial for you when you become King.” The Dane said and Peter nodded. 

The King stepped closer to the railing, stretching his arm out so that Hábrók could spread his wings. Hábrók's wingspan appeared to be over a metre long. Anthony pressed himself against the railing with his arm out, so that below the hawk there was a drop of over thirty metres. With a hushed voice, the King spoke to Hábrók. 

“See, Hábrók. See what I cannot.”

Blinking his yellow eyes once, the hawk let go of his master's forearm and dived down into the darkness with his wings pressed against his body. Peter hurried to look over the railing and felt his heart do a jump as he saw the hawk dangerously close to a roof below, before he spread his wings and made an impressive curve in the air going upwards. With three powerful flaps of his wings, Hábrók rose up high above them, letting out a piercing caw as a goodbye before disappearing into the dark sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I am dragging this out way too much ahah. What do you guys think? Do you prefer the plot and character interactions, or would you rather have more porn w/o plot? I would love to hear what you guys think, so please do let me know below. And as usual, thank you so much for reading my loves <3


	5. Chapter 5 - The Growing Relationship Between Master And Pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Second Chances - Imagine Dragons
> 
> Dedicated to @fandom_meet_fangirl aka Ellie for being such a sweetheart and beta reading this for me and helping me with ideas.

Midwinter was just a couple of days away and Peter's sword training and lessons continued ahead. Anthony became very involved with the sword training, but it was still Rhodes who was in charge and whom Peter trained with the most. Occasionally, the King would grow too restless as he sat and observed and challenged the Prince himself, but not without putting on some of his armour to protect his chest. 

He had not had another fit, but Peter saw that Stephen was keeping a close eye on him, asking him often about any pain or discomfort. In response, the Dane always made a dismissing gesture with his hand and stated that he was not getting that old yet. The dreams about the man with the purple lips, on the other hand, were still bothering the King nearly every night. However, he was too stubborn to talk about it to anyone. Peter hoped that Hábrók would return soon with good news to ease the King's troubled mind. 

Peter had also hoped that Stephen would be more involved in his lessons with Wong as well, but instead he grew more and more disappointed for each time Stephen and Wong had to excuse themselves to tend to urgent matters from the Swedish court. 

This meant that Peter was mostly left to teach himself with instructions from the Swedish King and his advisor on which books and chapters to read. Those dark afternoons spent in the library easily became dull for the young man, even when Thyra kept him company. Sometimes he grew too frustrated to sit still and read what he was told to and instead requested a servant to bring some raw chicken and carrots to him. 

“No, Thyra! I said sit, not spin.” The Prince groaned in frustration as Thyra looked at him with a blank stare, waiting for praise that was not coming. 

“Sit.” The Prince said more firmly, but once more Thyra spun around instead. Peter groaned again and that was when Thyra became impatient for her reward. She made a loud snickering noise which then became a low and long growl. 

“No, you will not be rewarded until you sit.” Peter said firmly. The carrots and raw chicken pieces were on a tray on the table next to him. The Prince saw how the fox's eyes flickered back and forth between him and the food, until she suddenly snapped and jumped up to snatch a carrot. 

“No, bad girl!” Peter was up in a second, running after Thyra and chasing her to a corner in the library. Thyra hid her food under her paws and growled loudly as a threat, flashing her canines. Growing impatient himself, Peter tried to take the carrot back and reached for it under Thyra’s paws. The white fox screamed loudly before biting the Prince's hand, making him cry out and pull his hand back. 

“Thyra!” The Prince exclaimed, clutching his injured hand to his chest as he sat on the floor. The fox seemed frightened too, pushing back into the corner even further and growling lowly with her ears down. 

“What on earth is going on here?” A deep voice said firmly by the door. Peter turned to look and found the Swedish King in the doorway with Fenrir by his side. Seeing the blood on the Prince's hand, he rushed over and knelt down by his side.

“I attempted to teach Thyra to sit, but she bit me when I tried to take back the reward that she stole.” The Prince said and winced as the Swede took his injured hand into his own, studying the puncture wounds. All four of Thyra’s canines had sunk into his skin and flesh, two on the back of his hand and two in his palm. There was not a lot of blood, but the four wounds still pulsed hotly and painfully. 

The King began mumbling words of another language that Peter could not understand, and like the first time they had spent a night together, golden spinning rings of light assembled around the King's forearm. The pattern of the lights appeared different this time as far as Peter could remember, but it was nonetheless mesmerising to watch. The spinning rings did not feel warm as they made their way down to Stephen's fingers, but they did cast a golden light across the King’s face, making his cheekbones appear even sharper and his cheeks more hollow.  
The spinning rings stopped at his fingertips, which he pressed to the puncture wounds on the back of Peter's hand. It was not painful, but the Prince did feel a tingling sensation as the fine muscles and narrow veins were put back together. 

As the King healed the Prince, the wolf-dog approached the frightened fox cautiously before beginning to lick her forehead in a comforting gesture. Thyra allowed it, even though she still growled quietly. 

“There you are, my Prince.” The older man said once Peter's hand was all healed. Luckily the blood had not gotten on his white outfit, as the incident would be quite hard to explain as he did not have the wound to prove it. “Now, do not ever do that again.” 

“How else am I supposed to train her? I cannot let her have the reward if she has not earned it. I told her to sit and she spun instead.” The Prince argued, gesturing at Thyra in the corner. In response, the fox screamed at her master. 

“You do not understand, Peter. It is in the nature of foxes to be aggressive over their food, more so than other animals. If you want to spare yourself from bites, you will have to let her have her food in peace.” Stephen explained calmly, helping the Prince to his feet. When they were sat by the chairs by the fire, the King continued. “You can continue to train her with food, but just do not let your fingers get too close to her fangs.” 

The Prince nodded and rubbed at his newly healed palm. Suddenly, the old memories of the Swedish royal gardens came into Peter's mind. More specifically, the day that he had pushed his hand into thorny bushes and the Strange King had come to his aid. 

“Do you remember when my parents and I were guests in your home and I pushed my hand into a bush of roses?” Asked Peter and continued when Stephen nodded. “Why did you not heal me with magic then? Surely, you knew how to.” 

“You were merely a child, Peter. I could not trust you to keep such a grave secret. However, the Princess sure should have watched her step more carefully.”

Both royals chuckled at the memory before a comfortable silence fell over the library. The fire was crackling in the back, casting a warm orange light across the library. Still in the corner, Thyra and Fenrir were cuddled up to one another, with the wolf-dog still licking the smaller fox. Thyra was quiet, with her eyes half open and appeared very relaxed. 

Stephen was also looking at his pet, with obvious fondness in his eyes and a lazy smile on his lips. Peter took his change to study the older man, as he seemed very focused on Fenrir. The creases on Stephen's forehead and around his eyes seemed deeper than when he last remembered seeing him in the late summer. He appeared tired, like there was a heavy burden on his shoulders. Peter wondered if that could be the reason to his frequent private meetings with his advisor. The Prince did not have more time to wonder, as the Swede turned to meet the Prince's eyes. Peter felt his ears growing hot as he was caught staring. 

“Spit it out.” The King chuckled and Peter pouted his lips, which humoured the King even more. 

“Is it really that obvious?” The Prince mumbled mostly to himself, before sitting up straighter and speaking his mind. “Is there trouble at home, my King?” 

The older man stopped laughing, taking on a more serious expression. He sighed and rubbed the side of his face with his hand. “Unfortunately, there is. Some of my courtiers find that I am spending too much time away, that I am neglecting my people. Wong informed me of this and we have tried to convince the court that aiding you, Peter, to become a good King will take time, but that it will be worth every second. Our kingdoms have cooperated closely for decades now and it has worked for the benefit of all of us. That is why I am so preoccupied with Wong, as I am trying to persuade my court to not question my decision to stay here with you, Peter.” 

The King's words tugged on the Prince's heart, making him blink rapidly to avoid letting tears fall down his cheeks. 

“This is such an honour, my King.” Peter began, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I cannot thank you enough for your help, both me, and on the behalf of the Norwegian people. But please, do leave for home if it spares your people from suffering.” The Prince said, with his hand on his chest to emphasise his sincerity. However, the King wore a smile on his face and made a dismissing gesture with his hand. 

“The pleasure is all mine, my Prince. And I will not make a decision on leaving until I have heard from Lady Christine, whom I have the highest regard for of all the courtiers. Her insight will determine what I will do, but until then I will stay and we will resume as planned.”

Perhaps it made him selfish, but Peter felt relief upon hearing this. He sat back in his seat, placing one knee over the other and resting his chin in his palm. Without thinking, the Prince sought out his pet with his eyes, finding her still cuddled up with Fenrir in the corner of the large room. He met Thyra’s eyes and the pet blinked lazily. With a yawn, the fox untangled herself from Fenrir and rose onto her paws to stretch. The wolf-dog did the same, groaning in satisfaction and wetting his black nose. Fenrir was the first one to seek out his master, walking over with heavy steps and hooded eyes. Peter thought he looked adorable in his groggy state. Stephen stretched out his hand, which Fenrir rubbed his head against and sat down to be pet. 

The Prince followed the King and stretched his hand to his pet as well. Thyra seemed a bit weary at first, but eventually made her way over to Peter with careful steps. Peter's outstretched hand happened to be the one the fox had bit not long ago, and Thyra sniffed his hand thoroughly before beginning to lick away the dried blood gently. 

“I am sorry for frightening you, girl.” Peter whispered softly once Thyra had licked his hand clean. Perhaps Thyra might never speak like Fenrir and Hábrók do, but the Prince still saw that his pet also felt bad about the incident. With a smile on his lips, Peter patted his thigh and Thyra was on his lap in a flash. 

“I think you two will figure it out soon.” The King said with a smile and Peter nodded in response. The two royals spent the rest of the evening in the library spoiling their pets with pieces of chicken.


	6. Chapter 6 - The News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Stormur - Sigur Rós

“My fellow Norwegians, I-“

“Can't hear you, Peter!” Anthony interrupted, gesturing for the Prince to raise his voice. Peter grumbled under his breath and shifted his weight from one foot to the other before trying again. 

“My fellow Norwegians!” Peter shouted, earning a nod of approval from both the Danish and Swedish King. 

The three royals were gathered in a sitting room where servants had rearranged a chest for the Prince to stand on, as if it were a podium. He stood with his feet at shoulder-length, hands clasped behind his back and chest puffed out. He was dressed in white, which was his preferred colour, and a cape on his shoulders. Stephen was dressed in his usual navy blue with silver details and Anthony in his crimson with golden details. The Swede was sat on a leather chair, one hand on the armrest and the other raised to guide Peter as he pretended to address his people. To get the Prince to emphasise a specific words or phrase, Stephen would lift his hand palm up and then lower it and pointing his fingers down for Peter to speak lower. Anthony, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth, the heels of his shoes clicking against the polished floors. The pacing made Peter slightly nervous and he tried his hardest to not let his voice quiver like a boy. 

After the usual sword training in the morning with Rhodes, Anthony had suggested that Peter would start putting his knowledge into practice. The Prince knew how to run a kingdom and lead a people, in theory, but the question was whether he could do make good decision in real life. And what was perhaps most challenging, deal with the consequences of his actions, whether they be good or bad. 

Stephen had agreed with the other King's suggestion and added to it by requesting Wong to come up with at least a dozen hypothetical situations for the Prince to consider and then argue how he would deal with the matter. So far, putting knowledge into practice was going smoothly, if only the Prince's vocal cords would not fail him. 

Peter could practically feel a squeak about to come out of his dried out throat when there was three sharp knocks on the double doors leading into the sitting room. Anthony stopped his pacing and faced the door, telling the one behind it to come in. A servant entered and bowed to the Prince and Kings before speaking. 

“My apologies for interrupting, your Majesties.” The male servant said, keeping his gaze down. 

“Quite all right.” Said Anthony with a dismissing gesture with his hand. “What is the matter?”

“Your hawk has returned, your Majesty.” 

The three royals were up in less than a second and followed the servant to the entrance hall. By the large and heavy doors were a handful of guards, but only one of them had the difficult task of providing their forearm for Hábrók to stand on. The guard in question struggled with keeping his arm still, clearly making it hard for the hawk to get a grip. So, the hawk took it upon himself to enter and flew up, nearly reaching the ceiling of the hall. 

Anthony reached his arm out and by tilting his wings in a specific angle, the hawk slowed down his speed and landed gracefully on the King's forearm. 

“See? Not that hard, gentlemen.” Anthony said to the guards, a hint of mockery in his tone. The guards did not look entirely convinced, but bowed nonetheless and muttered their apologises. 

Before returning to the sitting room, Anthony requested that they would bring a variety of raw meats for his hawk, as he was probably starving after his long journey. Peter had lost count of days, but he knew it had been over two weeks since Hábrók dived down from the North tower and flew into the dark night. 

The hawk looked rougher than the Prince remembered, some of his feathers sticking out of his otherwise smooth coat. His claws looked dirty as well, stained with blood and dirt. Peter found himself feeling very curious about where the hawk had been and what he had seen. 

Anthony let Hábrók settle onto the chest where Peter had stood just a while ago. As they waited for the food to be brought to him, the three royals watched quietly as the hawk began picking at his loose feathers, letting them fall to the floor. A knock at the door told them that the food had arrived and Hábrók began swallowing the raw pieces of meat whole. The servants had also brought wine for the royals and they sipped on it in silence as they waited for the hawk to finish his meal. 

“What have you seen, Hábrók? Please, enlighten us.” Anthony urged, moving to sit at the edge of his seat with his hands on his knees. 

The hawk turned a yellow eye on his master and blinked once before resuming to rearrange his feathers. The Dane did not push any further, but Peter could see that he was growing impatient as he began tapping his heel against the floor. The Prince had to admit that he was also growing very curious of what the hawk had to tell. Stephen, on the other hand, looked incredibly calm, sat back in his seat and eyes on Hábrók. 

Finally the hawk raised his head, seeming to be satisfied with the state of his coat and fixed one yellow eye on Anthony. The King sat up straighter and kept the intense gaze of his hawk. After a moment, Peter realised that they were communicating with one another, without saying a word out loud. The Prince became slightly disappointed by the fact that the hawk was not allowing him to hear his thoughts as well. However, Peter was not the only one left out of the conversation. Stephen was also looking back and forth between Hábrók and his master to see if their expressions could reveal anything. They did not and both Stephen and Peter had to be patient for a long while. 

“Do you think Thyra could talk one day too?” Peter whispered to Stephen. 

“Perhaps. It is very rare, but she did tell me her name the day after you found her.” The King answered in a hushed voice, glancing at the Prince from the corner of his eye. “Peter, keep in mind that she will not talk if you pressure her. You must let her talk to you when she is ready, if she ever is. I think Hábrók is finished.” Stephen said as Anthony flopped back in his seat, resting his head in his hand. With his other hand, the King began rubbing on his chest in circular motions. 

“Tony-“

“I am fine!” The Dane snapped at the Swede. 

Stephen sighed sharply, looking quite irritable. “What has Hábrók seen?” 

Anthony stayed quiet for a while, staring out of the tall window across from their seats. It was not late in the afternoon, but the sun had dropped below the horizon long ago. Now that midwinter had passed, the days would slowly become longer as the nights grew shorter. Still, it would be two more months of darkness. 

“He saw Steve Rogers.” Anthony finally said, still rubbing at his chest. Peter was beginning to think it was more to comfort the emotional pain than to ease any physical discomfort. 

“Where?” Stephen urged on, leaned over in his seat with his hands on his knees. 

“On the Norwegian coast. Hábrók suspects that he is awaiting his men from Iceland. It would be a waste of manpower to patrol every harbour in Norway, as there are hundreds of them. No, Steve will find his way in.” Anthony said, seeming to shrink in his seat into an echo of his usually kingly self. Peter and Stephen waited patiently as Anthony opened his mouth multiplies times as if to speak, but closed it again when he could not find the words. 

“Did Hábrók observe anything else?” Stephen urged again, but gentler. Anthony sighed again and finally lowered his hand from rubbing at his chest, but only to rest it in his lap where it trembled slightly. 

“He saw a dozen smaller groups spread out throughout Norway. But they did not appear ragged looking like Steve's men, even though they travelled together. These soldiers wore only black.” 

“Did they bear an emblem of any kind?” Asked Stephen and Anthony turned to consult his hawk once more. 

“Y-Yes, a white symbol of some kind on a purple background. Hábrók could not see what symbol, as they bore no banners, only badges on their chests.”

In a sudden move, Stephen sprung up from his seat and began pacing the room. Anthony remained in his seat, rubbing at his temple as he rested his cheek in his palm. The Prince looked back and forth between the two Kings. 

“What does this mean?” The younger man finally asked, voicing his confusing only to have the Swede shoot him a glare. 

“Do you not have ears on your head, Peter? This means war!” Stephen shouted. 

Thanks to Hábrók’s otherworldly eyesight, none of the three royals were surprised when a week later the Winter Soldier, on a steed as black as the darkest winter night, appeared at the fields surrounding the Norwegian castle.


	7. Chapter 7 - The Stage Fright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: Thunder - Imagine Dragons

“No, bring me the white cape. And my father’s bear fur.” Peter commanded and the servant bowed before hurrying out of the room to replace the red cape she had brought originally. 

The Prince was left alone in his chambers and he moved to look at himself in the large mirror hanging on the wall. Grinning at his reflection, Peter could not help but feel pleased with himself. The armour and his suit seemed to sit tighter on him than a year ago, as he had gained some muscle thanks to his intense sword training. On his hips, he bore his sword and his dagger on the other side. Behind him, the sun peaked in through the window and cast its rays on the crown resting on a velvety and plush pillow on the desk, making it glitter and catch Peter's attention. One of his servants must have brought it there after it became known to everyone in the castle that the rebels were here once more. 

The Prince approached the desk and picked up the golden crown, studying it in the afternoon light. It was decorated with red and white diamonds, but not overly so as a King's or Queen's crown, but it was still beautiful in every way. Peter quite liked it, but his favourite aspect of the crown were the runes engraved into the gold, which stated that only a Prince of the Norwegian kingdom could wear it. Moving to stand in front of the mirror again, Peter attempted to brush down some of his unruly curls before gently placing the crown on his head. 

The Prince could not help but grin at the sight in front of him in the mirror. He still looked quite boyish with his long and skinny limbs, rosy cheeks and unruly curls. However, he also recognised that he had changed quite drastically during the last six months. His hands were becoming rougher, more like a warriors hands, and his shoulders were becoming broader as he kept gaining muscle. The Prince wondered if one day he would look like Anthony and Stephen, with their scars on their bodies and lines across their faces which told of battles and years of ruling a kingdom. However, Peter's pondering was left short as there was a knock at the door and he called out for the returning servant to enter. 

“King Anthony and King Stephen, are they ready to leave?” The Prince asked as the servant fastened the white cape to his armour. 

“Yes, your Majesty. And your horse is ready as well.” She said and fastened the fur on top of the cape. 

“How do I look?” Peter asked once he was ready, meeting the eyes of the servant in the mirror. 

“Like a future King, my Prince.” She said with a smile and bowed her head. 

Stepping out of the castle, Peter grinned as his eyes fell upon his steed. Grani spotted him as well and nickered joyfully, throwing his head back and making his braided mane bounce. 

“Hey, Grani.” Peter greeted, brushing his hand up and down the white horse´s forehead and muzzle. By his side, Frea and Orvar were saddled and armoured too. 

“My, my. You look dashing, my Prince.” Stephen praised with a smile, eyeing the crown on Peter's head. The King was lightly armoured, with his usual navy blue suit peeking through and a crimson cape on his shoulders. Like the Prince, he was stroking his steed with a gloved hand, but the other King was nowhere to be seen. 

“Thank you.” The younger man replied, turning his eyes on Grani as he would blush a much darker red if he held the King's gaze. “Where is Tony?” He asked, changing the subject when suddenly he felt a leathered hand stroking his jaw. Flicking his eyes up, Peter met the warm brown eyes of the Danish King and blushed hotly in an instant. 

“Handsome little Prince.” Anthony said huskily, only for Peter to hear as he leaned close and nibbled at his ear. He continued with the same voice, sending shivers down Peter's spine. “Would you be so kind and wear that crown more often, hmm?” Glancing up, Peter caught the King smirking before he moved over to Orvar. 

Peter swallowed thickly and averted his attention to his horse, busying himself with adjusting the bridle even though it was fastened perfectly. “This is not appropriate. We are addressing the rebels again, for Odin’s sake.” Peter muttered and moved to jump up on his steed. 

The Kings followed suit and both turned to look at Peter. “Oh, we are not addressing them. You are, Peter.” Stephen stated simply, leaving Peter at a loss for words. “We practiced this, have we not? Go ahead, start with your own men first.” 

The Prince gulped as he looked out on the crowd in front of him. Like last time, the men looked like a miniature army and all of them had their eyes fixed on Peter, awaiting his command. Prompting Grani to take a step forward, Peter cleared his throat before speaking. 

“The rebels have returned once more. I will attempt to negotiate with them, but at my signal, arrest whoever tries to resist. I want no bloodshed, but we cannot allow these men to continue causing mayhem. Understood?” Peter shouted without so much as a quiver in his voice. 

“Yes, Your Highness!” The crowd answered, reminding Peter of the sound of thunder during the last summer storms. 

Feeling pleased, the Prince nodded once and turned Grani around to head out of the castle grounds. The sun was hidden behind grey clouds in the sky above, but the midday was still bright due to the whiteness surrounding everything. Whenever it snowed, the guards got the task of clearing the path down leading from the castle. However, the path leading north was rarely used, as the area was rougher with large rocks and steep hills. However, for the rebels, it provided as a good strategic spot. As the royals readied themselves for the meeting, the guards had cleared a thin strip leading north, so the royal steeds had no trouble trotting through. Behind them, however, the troops struggled slightly with their heavy armour and weapons as they nearly dragged their legs through the snow. 

“Simple and quick to the point. Well done, Peter.” The Dane praised as he and the Swede joined Peter. “More importantly, however, what do you plan on telling those low-life Christian barbarians?” 

“Tony.” Stephen snorted, trying to stay serious but failing. 

“Did I stutter? I know damn well what they are.” Anthony said with a raised voice, getting an eye roll in response from Stephen. “So, Peter?”

“To be truthful, no. I have not. I assumed you would have something to say, Tony.” Peter said, remembering how the Danish King’s face was all red with fury when they met the rebels in the late summer. 

“I do, however I will keep my lips sealed. Like Stephen tried to remind me then, you are the head of this kingdom. Your word is law.” Anthony said, avoiding Peter’s eyes. He must still feel embarrassed about the last encounter with the rebels, Peter figured. “Stephen and I will stay back, but do not hesitate to consult us if you find yourself in doubt.”

The Prince turned to look at Stephen, who nodded in confirmation of Anthony’s words. 

“Right.” The Prince muttered to himself mostly, letting out a long breath. 

They were nearing the hill and once at the top, Peter halted on his horse. Stephen and Anthony followed suit as did the troops behind them. Ahead of them in the distance, the rebels were waiting, who appeared in stark contrast to the whiteness around them in the black clothing. Unlike last time, the rebels appeared more prepared with some on horseback with armour and weapons. Some of them wore the purple and white badge that Hábrók had seen on his journey across the kingdom. The Winter Soldier stood out in the head of the crowd thanks to his shining metal arm and Peter felt his heart jumping into his throat. 

On his left side, Stephen leaned over from Frea’s back. “It is all right to be frightened, just do not let them know you are. It is all about perception.” The King whispered to him. 

Peter nodded slowly and gulped away the thickness in his throat. “Banner-men!” He shouted to the troops behind him and in a moment three men had stepped forward, each holding the banner of each of the Scandinavian kingdoms. 

“My Prince?” His banner-man spoke up, bowing his head along with the two others. 

“Announce me first, then King Stephen and then King Anthony.” Peter commanded, pleased that neither of the Kings objected. With a quick bow, the three men stepped back. 

The Prince fixed his eyes on the rebels once more. Slowly, he drew in a long breath, the icy air clearing his mind. 

“Stay frosty.” Anthony said lightheartedly, clearly eager for some action as he fiddled his Orvar’s reins and with his other hand resting on the handle of his sword. 

Peter chuckled nervously and urged Grani ahead, holding his crowned head high.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Thirst For Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this: I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons

“Announcing Peter, son of Richard, Prince of Norway!” 

Peter kept him face stern and eyes fixed on the Winter Soldier just 80 metres away from him. As the Kings banner-men announced them as well, Peter felt Grani shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The horse huffed and thrashed his head back and forth, all signs that he was eager to run. The Prince, on the other hand, was itching to hold his sword high to strike something or someone. 

After announcing the Kings, the banner-men stepped back, planting the banners into the snow so that they could flap in the wind. The Winter Soldier stepped forward and raised his metal arm to remove his mask. His raven-black hair was braided, leaving his face more exposed than last time Peter had seen him. The Prince studied his pale features as much as he could, considering the distance between them. He could, however, make out multiple silver looking scars on his face. 

“I sincerely hope you are a wiser man than Rogers and will refer to me with the appropriate title.” The Prince began, trying his hardest to keep his posture confident and voice firm. 

“Well, I am afraid you will be left disappointed, Peter.” The black-haired soldier said mockingly, taking a step forward. In response, Anthony and the troops drew their swords. The Winter Soldier whistled lightheartedly, raising his empty hands and stepping back. “Eager for blood to spill?” 

“That depends on what you have to say.” Peter said, gesturing for the troops behind him to stand down. “But first, answer some questions of mine. Where is Rogers?” 

“I am afraid he was too occupied with preparing a revolution to join us today.” The Winter Soldier answered. “However, I will let him know that you missed him.” 

Behind him, Peter heard Anthony snorting in a disapproving tone, but otherwise stayed quiet and Peter continued. 

“You attempted a revolution in Denmark. Need I remind you how spectacularly you and Rogers failed?!” The Prince shouted, pausing for a dramatic effect. The rebels shifted in unease, muttering something to one another. The Winter Soldier, however, remained unbothered. “What reason do you have to believe that you will succeed in my kingdom?” The Prince added. 

“Your kingdom?!” The raven-haired soldier snapped back. Once again, the clinking sounds of steel rang from the troops as they readied their swords, causing the horses to stomp their hooves anxiously. Peter gestured for the troops to wait with his hand, but did not take his eyes off the rebels. 

The Winter Soldier continued with a strong sense of mockery in his tone. “You are a cub! Just learning how to stand on your own paws without those two holding you up.” The soldier gestured at the two Kings. “But, to answer your question, Peter, we have a sponsor.”

The Prince had anticipated this. He figured it must be the men with the badges. “Who is your sponsor?”

“Unlike you and those old fools, the Tsar Thanos wisely accepted our offer to join our faith. In return, he offered his aid in conquering the rest of the Nordic realm.” Said the Winter Soldier, gesturing to the men dressed in black behind him. “Listen closely, Peter, because this is your last opportunity. Step down from your throne and join our faith. The Lord’s love conquers everyone and you shall find peace in heaven with him.”

After finishing, the raven-haired soldier stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back. Turning his crowned head, the Prince prompted Grani to turn and went to join the two Kings for advice. 

“This is ridiculous!” Anthony exclaimed, shooting a glare towards the rebels. “Decline their offer!” He added hastily, the veins at his temple pulsing visibly. 

“Of course I will.” Peter said, looking at the Winter Soldier from the corner of his eye. “But their sponsor worries me. Stephen?”

Unlike the Danish King, the Swede looked much calmer, but his brows were still knot together in a worried expression. 

“And worried we should be. Thanos´ army is enormous, but why he would give his men to Rogers’ cause puzzles me. The Russians have served the tiger God Amba for centuries. I have a hard time believing the Tsar would take on a new faith just like that. Nonetheless, his men are here now and they pose a grave threat. Proceed with caution, Peter.” 

Nodding once, the Prince pulled on Grani’s reins once more to address the rebels again. The Winter Soldier stepped forwards as well, hands still clasped behind his back in a confident pose. He looked very much like Rogers, Peter thought to himself. 

“I decline your offer. What do you have to say?” The Prince’s statement did not seem to please the Winter Soldier, nor the men behind him. 

“Oh, you are all fools!” The raven-haired soldier laughed, shaking his head from side to side. In a sudden movement, he drew the sword from his hip and pointed it directly at the Prince. “Prince!” He roared with such fury that Peter felt shivers running down his spine. However, he did not show his fear, but kept his crowned head high. 

“At last, the correct title.” Peter chuckled, making the dark looking soldier even more furious. 

“This means war! Unlike you, we fear no death as God will welcome us with open arms to heaven. While you shall burn in the eternal flames of hell! Do you accept, Prince? Or are you too cowardly to accept anything?!” The Winter Soldier shouted. 

Luckily, no one was close enough to hear Peter swallow thickly. He knew that he should turn around to consult Anthony and Stephen. The Prince was far too inexperienced to make a wise choice, but the tingling sensation in the fingertips of his sword hand told him everything he needed to know. Behind him, he heard the Kings approaching. 

“Peter-“ 

“I accept!” The Prince shouted back, interrupting Stephen. On his other side, Anthony gasped in a breath, muttering a fast series of swears along with his name, but Peter was not listening.

“I am most glad, even if it will lead to the destruction of all of you. However, I think I look forward to that.” The raven-haired man said, bowing mockingly, much to the humour of the men behind him. “We shall strike on the first day of spring by the Jotunheim peak. Until then, farewell, Peter.” The Winter Soldier said, turning on his heel and returning to the rest of the rebels before they quietly retreated into the woods, disappearing from sight quickly in the dense trees. 

To say the two Kings were unimpressed was an understatement. Back inside the castle, the Prince had gotten the scolding of his lifetime, like a farmer boy would from his father after letting their only horse run away. Due to the farmer boy’s carelessness, the family of six was in danger of starvation, only that in Peter’s case he had put the whole Norwegian people in danger. 

“Are you aware of what you have set in motion, boy? A war! Did not Stephen and I teach you better than this? I simply cannot believe you would make such a hasty decision, while we were stood right by your side! With all due respect, Prince.” Anthony spat and stopped his pacing to lock his eyes on Peter. “You made a grave mistake accepting the challenge.”

The Prince jumped up from his seat, too restless to sit still and began pacing the room. Anthony had ranted for a while now, while Stephen stood by the window, gazing out as the afternoon turned into night rapidly. The Swede had said very little since their return from the field. In a way, Stephen’s silence was more worrisome to Peter than Anthony’s loud rant. 

As he paced the room, Peter caught his reflection in the glass of the window, the crown on his head glittering in the reflection. However, suddenly the piece of jewellery seemed ill-fitting and he took it off his head, clutching it in his fist. The cold gold dug into his soft palm, like Thyra’s teeth had. Turning to face the Kings, the Prince drew in a shaky breath. 

“I-I want to be a great King, Tony. Charge into battle without fear. Protect my people and gain their respect, just like you.” Peter admitted slowly, fiddling with the crown in his grasp and avoiding Anthony who had fixed his gaze on him. Stephen turned his head towards Peter, but still kept his back turned to him. 

“I only wanted to be like you.“ The Prince said heavily, lifting his gaze to meet Anthony’s stern eyes. 

The Dane took a couple of steps and lifted his hand, pointing an accusing finger at the Prince. “And I wanted you to be better.” 

The words hung heavy in the still and tense air of the spacious room, but still it felt too small for Peter to breathe properly. He hung his head, clutching the crown even tighter in his fist. The Prince sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as he felt the skin on his palm break and the sharp edges of the gold digging into his flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiger God Amba concept from Dave Derrick (davederrickjr on instagram)
> 
> I don't have more chapters prepared, so I am afraid this project will have to be put on hiatus for now. I do have the ending of this story planned out, which includes a battle and a coronation, but I do not have the time to write it right now. Thank you for reading, the kudos and comments. I really do appreciate it all. Catch me on Tumblr at professional-benaddict where I write prompts now and then. See ya for part 3, dears <3


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